The Little Guy from Brooklyn
by definitelynotshelby
Summary: Prequel to "Shared Life Experiences". Peggy and Natasha are so similar, but what if it was more than that? What if Peggy had actually been Natasha? AU and slightly OOC. I'm going for a pre-trauma Natasha.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello All! So happy to be posting the first chapter of the prequel for "Shared Life Experiences"! The story is going to run through an AU version of the events from Captain America: The First Avenger. If there are any requests for specific scenes, feel free to send them to me!**

 **Disclaimer: I own none of this!**

"Romanoff! My office!" came a voice from the next room over.

Natasha sighed, putting down the paperwork she was nearly done filling out. Sadly, it sounded like her efforts to finish early were doomed to be thwarted. She stood and started for the office nearest her workstation, fully anticipating another tall stack of paperwork. As of late, she had begun to believe that her coworkers viewed her solely as a secretary. It was incredibly degrading.

She had stuck it out through the same training as all of her counterparts, and training for the British Armed Forces Special Air Service had been a far stretch from easy, yet no matter how much she gave of herself, it seemed as though she would never gain the respect of her peers.

And yet, that never managed to affect her work ethic. Through all the nonsense they threw at her, Natasha Romanoff had always remained two steps ahead. She was determined to prove that an officer is an officer, even in a pencil skirt.

So as she made her way into her superior's office, she was floored to see the manila envelope in his hand baring her name and the crest of the British Armed Forces. She was being assigned.

"Morning, Romanoff" said Colonel Richards.

"Good morning, sir." She wasn't planning on pointing it out, but she had been chained to her desk since 8:00, while her superior officer had not arrived until a little past 11:30. At this point, it was no longer morning.

"You've been reassigned. We're sending you to New York." He seemed uninterested, as per usual.

She picked up the file and started to read. They were sending her to Wheaton, New Jersey. She was going to be assisting the Strategic Scientific Reserve in selecting a candidate for 'genetic enhancement'. She would be working along side incredible minds of science and high-ranking American military officers. The job sounded important, and it made her stomach flip. One thing missing from the orders were dates.

"How long should the assignment last?"

Colonel Richards turned away from his papers to look at her, a look of irritation gracing his not-particularly-pleasant face. "Honestly Romanoff, were you even listening? You're being _reassigned_. You're not coming back."

That's when it clicked. For some reason, the word 'reassigned' had not registered the first time. She was going to be permanently moving to the States. It wasn't like she had much to lose. Her parents had passed when she was younger, back when they lived in Saint Petersburg. All she would have to leave behind would be her flat.

But then, as she continued to think it through, she started to imagine herself in leadership. It would never happen in London. Not with those sexist pigs presiding over her.

This was a chance to redefine herself. She would be able to start fresh, only preceded by her incredibly impressive resume.

"When do I leave?"

She flew into New York two days later, where she was greeted by a no-nonsense SSR agent whose name was apparently classified. She was then briskly escorted to a sleek, black car with tinted windows. The agent silently took her bags and placed them in the trunk of the car before going around to the driver's side door, which he opened and then motioned for her to take her seat. Confused, she stepped into the car, where she found an envelope baring her name on the dash.

She quickly reached for the envelope, hoping for some sort of clarity as to why she was seated in the driver's seat of what appeared to be a very nice agency car, but the letter inside confused her more.

 _The keys are under your seat. Follow Agent Gregg._

Just as she finished the letter, she heard the car next to her start up. She looked over to see "Agent Gregg" silently nod to her before putting his car into reverse and starting to move.

She quickly found the keys under her seat and then started the car before hurriedly pulling out of the parking space to follow the agent.

The drive wasn't long, but the sun had begun to set, making the streets of New York start to look more and more intimidating. In an unfamiliar car, following an unfamiliar man, in an unfamiliar city… Natasha was no coward, but the setting wasn't exactly comforting.

Agent Gregg stopped at a store with an awning sign that read: "Brooklyn Antiques", so she did the same. Following him towards the store, she began to panic. Was this man even an agent? Was her luring her to this shop to attack her? Why wouldn't he talk to her?

He pulled out a key and let himself into the shop, motioning for her to follow him in. The shop was typical, littered with a mismatch of antique furniture and finery. Agent Gregg immediately reached behind the counter to press a button, then he led her to a back room where two bookshelves were already slowly sliding apart to reveal a hallway bustling with agents dressed similarly to Agent Gregg.

They made their way to the end of the hallway where she was shown a large, bustling laboratory.

Almost immediately, a man in a while lab coat and glasses approached her. "Goot Ef'ning, Miss Romanoff!" He extended his hand for her to shake.

"Good Evening!" She said, shaking his hand. "This is quite impressive, Doctor…"

"Erskine!" He supplied with a smile.

"Yes! Thank you, Dr. Erskine!"

"Well hello, Sweetheart!" Came an intrigued, nasal voice from the other end of the room. "My name is-"

"Howard Stark. Yes, I'm well aware." She had heard of his cockiness, even from across the pond, and she had no intention of allowing it. She'd dealt with far too many brash men in her line of work. "Could you kindly direct your eyes upward, Mr. Stark?"

It took roughly three hours of flirting for Howard to realize that Natasha wasn't the slightest bit interested in him.

After that bridge had been crossed, she was able to really dig into the job she'd been assigned. She was going to be assisting Dr. Erskine by observing a group of potential candidates for his experiment and then offering her professional feedback for him to consider. While Dr. Erskine was planning on making occasional visits to the training camp, she was there to be a constant monitor and to make sure that whoever they chose would be able to mentally take the enhancement.

She was told that she would be living on base in modest apartment style quarters. She would be required to monitor the potential candidates during all of their training and the keep a close eye on them during their free time. At the same time, she was not to talk extensively about what she was evaluating. They were looking for candid behaviors.

She was also informed that the car that she had driven from the airport was hers, and that after she finished working on Project Super Soldier, the agency would be renting a secure apartment for her.

It amazed her that the office that saw her grow into an excellent agent could not recognize her worth, yet the American office seemed willing to pull out every last stop to keep her with them. She figured she could get used to working in the States.

And as she placed her family pictures onto the bookshelf of her new residency, she decided that the decision she had made was going to work out beautifully.

Day one.

She was immaculate. Suite pressed, hair fixed, and lips painted a deep shade of red, Natasha strode proudly through the wet, 5AM grass and towards the men's barracks, intent on making her status clear from the very beginning.

Stepping inside quietly, she reached for her whistle, took in a deep breath, and blew hard. It was as if all hell had broken loose. Men screamed like little girls. Some fell out of their beds. Two or three of them reflexively covered their ears with their pillows. But one, a scrawny little scrap of a soldier, immediately stood, straightened out his sheets, and snapped to attention at the foot of his bed. Under the bed she could see a modest collection of books, most of them seeming to be on the subject of military strategy. She was impressed.

Natasha walked over to him, pleased with the fact that the sound of her heels against the concrete floor probably irked the sleeping men around her. "What's your name, soldier?"

"Rodgers, Miss." He obviously wanted to be here, and while she admired his enthusiasm, she decided that she would make it her personal mission to break him. On the courses, she planned to run him to exhaustion, but for now she decided to let him have his moment.

"Good job, Rodgers." His face didn't falter. Maybe breaking him would prove to be a challenge after all. "Now the rest of you lazy bastards! Up! You salute your superior officer!"

One of the soldiers who had covered his head with his pillow seemed to perk up to the sound of a woman in his bunk. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, stood lazily as his peers rushed to attention, and stretched as he unashamedly looked Natasha up and down. "I'd have gotten up much faster if you're used that pretty voice instead of the goddamn whistle." He crooned.

As much as Natasha despised this man already, she was internally smirking. He would make the perfect example of what happens when a soldier disrespects her. "I'm thrilled to hear that you think I'm attractive, soldier. Might I know your name?"

"Gilmore Hodge." He sounded so sure of himself it made her sick.

"Yes, Mr. Hodge, would you mind standing at attention for me, but putting your right foot forward?" She laid it on thick, hoping to catch him off guard later.

"Oooo, are we gonna wrestle?" The way he said it made it clear that he wasn't really talking about wrestling.

Natasha stepped up close to him, looking him square in the eye, smirked at him, and then turned as if she were walking away, but as he scoffed the word "tease" under his breath, she swiftly brought the back of her heel to his crotch, before spinning around to punch him in the nose. It was incredibly satisfying.

As he whimpered on the ground, she addressed the rest of them. "Any questions?" Not a single one of them so much as twitched. "Good! Be at the course in 10 minutes. And Mr. Hodge?" He looked up at her. "I hope we now have a better understanding of how this is going to work."

He scowled at her, but to her, it was like the cherry on top of the perfect first impression. She had really outdone herself.

Morning exercises had gone well. She had noticed that Hodge was the favorite of Colonel Phillips. While the Colonel had yet to offend or actively demean her, it definitely didn't sit well with her that one of the three who would decide which of the candidates would be selected for enhancement favored such a vile man.

Even still, she managed to perpetuate her steely stare as she observed them. Her job for the day was to determine who would be taken out of the program at the end of day one. Each day of the first week, a soldier would go home. The workouts, teambuilding activities, and even their break times would be monitored to determine the weakest of the set. After the first week, the remaining candidates would go through a more intense version of the previous week. After three days, the final selection would be made.

Todays unlucky soldier seemed to be Private Martin, which surprised her. While she was rooting both for and against Rodgers, she had automatically assumed that he would be the first to go, just judging by his stature. She hadn't even dreamed that he'd make it to the second week, but the effort he was putting in (added with the fact that he, unlike any of the others, had not even attempted to sabotage another candidate or cut corners to finish sooner) made her believe that the little scrap had a chance of making it. She had to admit; she could see why Dr. Erskine had chosen him. There was something to be said about someone with truly honest intentions. He was growing on her, but she refused to tell him that. Instead, she decided to see how far he could push himself before her cracked.

"Colonel, I think it's time for us to run them." She whispered to Colonel Phillips who immediately chuckled.

"You're trying to weed out Rodgers, aren't you? Poor kid never had a chance." He chuckled, "FALL IN! WE'RE GOING RUNNING!"

 **As always, PLEASE leave me a review! Please and thank you! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for the follows/favorites/reviews!  
I thrive off of them!  
As always, I own nothing!**

Natasha and Colonel Phillips drove in front of the unit for five miles before the instructor had them stop at the flagpole marking the halfway point of the course. As per usual, he offered to let the soldier who could obtain the flag at the top of the pole ride back in the Jeep with Natasha and the Colonel.

Natasha was well aware that it was a trick. There had been a similar obstacle on the course where she had trained. No one ever gets to the flag. Instructors just like to watch them try. It feeds their ego.

Even still, Natasha's teeth went on edge when she saw Hodge make headway. The thought of riding back to base with him making passes at her from the back seat made her want to run with the rest of them instead.

But, as per usual, their efforts were fruitless. There was a collective groan, and then they were back to running.

And suddenly, they weren't running anymore. There was a loud clank of the flagpole smacking the ground mercilessly. Rodgers had done it. He had outsmarted them and found a way to bring the flag to him. They all turned to see him unclipping the flag from the pole.

Natasha found herself smirking in spite of her quest to remain emotionless and professional. Maybe she would have to reevaluate this guy. He was slowly but surely surpassing his peers, in spite of his impairments. Because he had always been at a disadvantage, he had been forced to constantly evaluate and analyze his surroundings. And yet he still pushed himself. His will seemed unbreakable. How a 90 pound asthmatic man had made it five miles at the pace of an army instructor, she would never know, and yet she admired him for it.

This kid was the real deal, and with enhancements, he could be the greatest soldier in history. She could think of no one more suitable for the role, but she wasn't about to stop searching. She was nothing if not thorough.

Every night, a meeting was held to discuss the selection process, and who should be removed from the program for the day. The first day it was Anderson, then the next day it was Martin, followed by Shea, then Benson, then Dawson. Every single vote, Colonel Phillips would submit Rodgers name. Every single time, Natasha and Dr. Erskine would outvote him.

While he certainly respected Rodgers tenacity, Phillips recognized that Dr. Erskine and Natasha were agreed on the idea of Rodgers going through the treatment, and felt that Rodgers was the only competition for the candidate he had chosen to back: Hodge.

To Colonel Phillips, the choice was obviously Hodge. He had served for years and he knew a good soldier when he saw one. Sure, Hodge had a few behavior issues. He was human. But at the end of the day, Hodge would get the job done. You might not want to know how it happened, but he would take care of it. Colonel Phillips valued efficiency above all else. It's why he loved the army.

"I have a deep respect for the two of you, so please excuse what I am about to say, but are you out of your goddamn minds? What on earth would possess you to choose Rodgers? The boy's never won a fight in his life!"

"Exactly!" said Romanoff, now entirely sold on Rodgers as the candidate, "Our super soldier will be the single most powerful human being in existence! Do you really think it wise to give that kind of power to a loose canon like Hodge?"

"And do you think it wise to give it to Rodgers? What if it doesn't work? What if he becomes an incredibly muscular asthmatic? All of the money and planning and training and begging would have been for nothing."

"Ze treatment wout remedy those ailments." Supplied Dr. Erskine.

"Honestly, Colonel. There really is no point in pushing these men any further when we all know who will be chosen in the end."

He sighed, well aware that she was right, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it. The boy was still skinny. "One more day of training. Just give me one day to prove to the two of you that Hodge is the better candidate."

"Deal."

It was the last day of training, and Colonel Phillips was running them into the ground, almost literally. It seemed like they'd never stop.

Poor Rodgers just would not quit. Anyone could see that his body was far past the point of exhaustion, and it was only noon. He was pushing through, and it was something incredible to watch. You could see in his eyes that there was something pushing him forward, not letting him fall into the trap of his handicaps.

Hodge and the other candidates were more occupied with complaining than with doing the actual tasks being screamed at them. Natasha knew that Phillips had meant for this to prove his point, but it as doing quite the opposite for Natasha and Dr. Erskine. They were more assured than ever.

"You're not really thinking about picking Rodgers, are you?" Colonel Phillips asked Dr. Erskine.

Natasha was currently hurling insults at the candidates as they hurriedly performed a ridiculous number of push-ups. It amazed her how a woman insulting a mans masculinity could work so well as a motivator.

"I vas not only sinking about it! He is the clear choice!" to Dr. Erskine, the choice was obvious.

"Look, when you brought a 90 pound asthmatic onto my base, I let it slide. I thought what the hell! Maybe he'd be useful to you, like a gerbil. I never thought you'd pick him." The men watched as Natasha called the candidates to attention and then immediately had them start doing jumping jacks. "You put a needle in that boys arm, it'll go straight through him!"

"Ve are looking for qualities beyond ze physical." Dr. Erskine felt like a broken record. It was something he'd said over and over and yet it never seemed to take hold for Colonel Phillips.

While the others seemed to be faring moderately well with the workout routine, Rodgers was showing signs of exhaustion already, yet he still managed to persevere. While there was merit in a soldier like Hodge who was capable and willing to follow orders, there was something special about Rodgers. Even when he lacked the capability, he was able to somehow will himself to keep up.

Rodgers was a better candidate that Dr. Erskine could have ever dreamed of. Now the only obstacle was to convince Colonel Phillips.

"Do you know how long it took to set up this project? All the groveling I had to do in front of Senator What's-his-name's committee?"

"I am vell avair…"

"Then throw me a bone. Hodge passed every test we gave him. He's big. He's fast. He obeys orders. He's a soldier!"

"He's a bully!"

"You don't win wars with niceness, Doctor!" The Colonel stepped over to the truck the two had been standing near, reached into a box that had been in the truck bed, and brought out a grenade. "You win wars with guns." In one swift motion, he pulled the safety and threw the live grenade into the group of jumping soldiers. "GRENADE!"

The group dispersed, taking cover behind cars and laying flat to avoid the blast, but Rodgers didn't take cover. Instead, he leaped onto the grenade, curling his frail body around it to absorb the impending blast. Natasha made a move to pull him away, but he swatted her hand away. "GET AWAY! GET BACK!"

But there was no blast. The collective adrenaline seemed to dissipate as they all realized that the grenade had been a dummy, but as the situation settled, it became clear, even to Colonel Phillips, that there really was no other option.

"He's still skinny."

After the grenade incident, it became Natasha's responsibility to address the candidates about exit procedure. The ones who had not been selected were going to be placed in other regimens.

She found herself once again in their barracks, trying with all of her might to keep her composure. Now, she was exclusively addressing the rejects, seeing as how Rodgers had been pulled aside to another bunk to talk with Dr. Erskine about the procedure. "Men, your bags will need to be packed by morning. Be ready to leave at 0600 hours."

Most of the men looked defeated, but relieved to be done with the intense training. But one of them, as per usual, was not done trying to claw his way to the top. Of course, Hodge would be the one to try to play dirty with her!

"Aw! Come on, sweetheart! I know you don't wanna see me leave! Tell you what, if you'll show me back to your room, I'll show you a good time. Even you know that I'll make infinitely better company than that Rodgers girl!"

Her blood was boiling, which did not bode well for Hodge. "So you think you're a real man?" She asked, venom dripping with every word. "You think that because you're faster and stronger than him, you're more of a man?" She was now toe and toe with him, the putrid smell of his breath filling her nose. "You know nothing of worth. Rodgers is more of a man than you'll ever be."

He chuckled darkly. "I knew it! You're screwing him!" She saw red. "Of course! He had to be screwing you to beat out the rest of us!"

It was almost automatic. Natasha's fist flew towards Hodge's face, striking him hard in the cheek and breaking the bone underneath.

"Natasha!" The sound came from the doorway, where Dr. Erskine stood with Rodgers by his side. The two of them had looks of awe on their faces. "Maybe you should retire for ze efning."

She knew he was trying to save her reputation by giving her an out, but it was so hard for her to force herself to take it. As she passed the two men in the doorway, she asked Dr. Erskine, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough." Rodgers answered for him. "And thank you."

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	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay! It's been a busy week, plus I had a bought of writers block!  
As always: I own none of this!**

"You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?" Rodgers had just finished rambling about all the times he'd been beat up, followed by a stammering cover-up after he accidentally called her a 'dame'. Honestly, she didn't mind. It was a far stretch from the insults she was used to.

The two of them were being driven to Dr. Erskine's lab in Brooklyn. The drive was not terribly long, and yet Rodgers had managed to put his foot in his mouth every time he opened it. The poor guy had probably never had an actual conversation with a woman he wasn't related to. She felt like she should have been insulted by it, but he somehow made it seem endearing. As much as she would have loved to deny that she liked Rodgers, she was a realist, so she couldn't deny that he had grown on her. At this point, she was actually quite fond of him. She had rooted for him and vouched for him for so long that she now felt a sort of protectiveness for him.

"Talking to women has never been a pressing concern for me." She looked at him questioningly. "Women weren't exactly lining up to dance with the guy they might step on."

She felt a surge of sympathy for Rodgers. She had seen how the other candidates had treated him, but she could only assume what it would have been like to live in his shoes outside of the military. At least in the military, he had a sense of belonging and purpose. She had read his file, so she knew that he had lost his parents. Rodgers had been on his own for years, and to have no companionship in that must have been difficult.

"You must have danced." It was almost hopeful. She wanted him to have had better.

"Well, asking a woman to dance always seemed so terrifying. In the past few years… It just… Didn't' seem to matter that much. Figured I'd wait."

"For what?"

"The right partner." Rodgers really was something. She had never known a stronger, more worthy human being in her entire life. He was worth a thousand Hodges and worthy of every woman in New York, and yet his image of himself was so humble. The agent in her was encouraged that he had been chosen as opposed to the more obvious candidates he had been up against. The human in her felt a need to give him something better than the hand life had dealt him.

She knew it was unprofessional, but that didn't stop her from reaching out and taking his hand in hers. "You would've made an excellent partner."

The car stopped in front of "Brooklyn Antiques", just as it had on Natasha's first night in the States, and the two of them stepped out of the car. Umbrella in hand, Natasha guided a very confused Steve Rodgers into the store. The store was dimly lit, curtains drawn in both windows.

"Wonderful weather we're having, isn't it?" came the voice of the elderly shopkeeper.

"Yes," replied Natasha, "But I always carry an umbrella."

The woman chuckled to herself, reaching behind the counter to press the button that would open the bookshelves in the back. Natasha took Steve's hand and led him around to the back, then turned to him just before the shelves started to part. "Are you going to be ok?"

Steve sighed and nodded, not really able to speak.

"I'll be there. The whole time. I promise!" She reached to touch his arm. Damn her soft spot for him!

"Thank you, ma'am." he breathed shakily, and then they turned to enter the SSR facility.

The facility was as lively as ever, filled to the brim with busy people in white. She had led Steve to the chamber before being swept up the stairs to the observation booth, where she was to watch as Steve went through the enhancement surgery. She worried for him.

She could see that Colonel Phillips was eyeing her from the seat next to hers. "Are we sure he's ready for this?"

Even though she was asking herself the same question, she quickly nodded, shifting back into her more professional demeanor. The truth was that she really did know that he could do this, but that didn't make it any less risky. Steve would hold on to the very end, but what if, in the next three minutes, there actually was an end? What if this procedure wasn't safe for any man, much less Rodgers?

Her fingers subtly twitched as she saw the needles go in, and she held her breath as the chamber lifted itself into the upright position, closing around Steve and blocking him from view. Stark began the Vita-ray treatment, and for a while it seemed like everything was going off without a hitch. But then he started to scream.

Natasha found herself out of her chair and sprinting out of the observation booth before she even knew what she was doing. Locking eyes with a panicked Dr. Erskine, she screamed, "Shut it down!"

He echoed her sentiments, motioning frantically to Stark to shut down the machine, but then another voice intervened.

It was Steve. "No! I can do this!"

Natasha held her breath as the experiment continued. The electricity from the machine ended up causing the labs hardware to short-circuit, but then the chamber lowered itself to the ground, and opened its doors to reveal a completely different Steve from the one who had stepped inside only moments earlier. This Steve was tall, broad shouldered, and muscular. The slacks he had once worn comfortably loose now barely reached mid-calf. He was easily a foot taller than he had once been.

As he collapsed out of the chamber, he was caught by Dr. Erskine, who seemed ready collapse himself. Both Stark and Dr. Erskine had looks of elation painted on their faces as the stared, slack-jawed at their success.

Stunned, Natasha shoved her way through the crowd of people until they were standing toe and toe, his chin now roughly eyelevel to her. "How do you feel?"

He took a second to catch his breath and take in his surroundings. "Taller."

"You look taller," she said with a chuckle, as she handed him his shirt.

The room was in a state of euphoria. The procedure had worked. There hadn't been any complications. Rodgers had come out of it without any complications. For Pete's sake, he just walked out of the chamber! It was extraordinary!

But then the room was collectively shaken out of its state of euphoria. It all happened so fast. Someone behind Natasha shouted, "He's got a gun!" and then the observation room exploded. When she turned around, she was greeted with the sight of "Clemson from the State Department" with his face firmly pressed to the floor by Colonel Phillips.

"Son, what did you think you were doing, reaching for that vile of Dr. Erskine's serum?" Colonel Phillips asked.

"Cut off one head, two more will take its place." And then he bit down on something in his mouth and it began to foam up. "Hail… Hydra…" He managed to choke out before collapsing.

"How the HELL did a Hydra agent get in here?" Colonel Phillips asked angrily, as he stood up and kicked the body of the dead agent. "For the love of God, we are the United States Military! We're better than screw ups like this!"

"Colonel!" Natasha interrupted, "We need to evacuate! We can work out the security issues at a later time! Right now we need to get somewhere safe!"

The Colonel huffed, "Get dressed, Rodgers."

Each of the officials took a different exit route, so as not to draw attention. None of them took the front entrance.

Colonel Phillips led Rodgers, Natasha, and Dr. Erskine down to a lower level. The four of them then proceeded to squeeze through a hidden door underneath a bathroom sink. They followed the path from there, and were eventually led to an alleyway where an agent was parked in a black car waiting for them. Natasha immediately identified the agent at Agent Gregg from her first night in New York.

They quickly piled into the car, and Natasha gave instructions for Agent Gregg to take them to the SSR safe house upstate, but agent Gregg gave no indication that he heard her. Instead, he simply reached up to adjust his rear view mirror and cracked a smile that made his his passenger's stomachs drop. "Hail Hydra," he spoke slowly and calmly.

And then two bullets came whizzing into the car. One hit Natasha in the left shoulder, while the other one hit Dr. Erskine squarely in the chest. The shooter had been outside of the car, but they were close enough for Natasha to get a good shot in. She reached for her gun and took aim, efficiently taking out the shooter in a single shot.

As the panic started to clear, Rodgers and Colonel Phillips were able to exit the car, Rodgers with Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips with Agent Gregg.

The Colonel quickly incapacitated the double agent, but it was useless to pursue him. Like the man in the lab, Agent Gregg had been prepared with a poison capsule, which he promptly made use of, collapsing against the hood of the car.

Rodgers, on the other hand, was busying himself trying to apply pressure to Dr. Erskine's wound, all the while eyeing Natasha in a panic. Dr. Erskine made a final movement to point to Steve's heart, reminding him of why he was chosen. He had a legacy to uphold now. Then Dr. Erskine stopped breathing and collapsed onto the pavement.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry it takes me so long to post! I seem to have over committed myself this semester! ;)  
As always, I own none of this!**

The rest of the day flew by in a flurry of panic and whispers. Natasha was quickly moved to the SSR medical facility within the city. The bullet had apparently missed any major organs, though that didn't really comfort Steve. He and the Colonel were taken to an SSR housing facility in New Jersey. There, he was given a bunk (which was rather large and much more like an apartment) to himself and a supply of military issued clothing. He was told that the next day, they would be taking samples of his blood for testing, and that he would be escorted to the labs by an agent at 0700 hours.

After all of the arrangements were made, he was left only with his thoughts: his terrifyingly clear thoughts. He wasn't sure if the serum had enhanced his brains ability to process information, or if he was just better at it now because there weren't as many ailments to clog up all of his senses, but it was horrific how well he could remember the days events.

He kept on reliving the seconds before the gunshots that hit Natasha and Dr. Erskine, trying to think of ways he could have stopped the bullets, but nothing came to him. He felt utterly helpless. How could he have let this happen? He wasn't the scrawny little boy from Brooklyn he'd been that morning, and yet he felt just as helpless.

He made his way to the bathroom to clean off, and was met by an unfamiliar reflection. Slowly he reached out to touch the mirror, his hand so large it seemed almost alien to him. As his fingers met the glass, he suddenly felt like he was going to be sick.

He quickly made it to the toilet, where he spent a good two minutes dry heaving. How could he have changed so much, made it so far, and still feel so helpless? He thought this would change all of that. He didn't notice it happening, but as he looked down to the toilets rim, he could see where his hand had turned the once pristine porcelain surface into a spidery map of cracks.

He stood up, backing away from the toilet and bracing himself on the sink, only to find the same cracks starting to form again. Finally, he was forced to crumple into the corner of the bathroom, away from anything he could damage.

He understood why what had happened to him was good, and he was grateful to not have to live with his old ailments anymore, but he was going crazy with this sense of helplessness. He had been equipped with abilities that surpassed those of any other human alive, yet he was still useless in a fight. The amount of disappointment he felt was driving him insane.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't even hear his door open and Natasha discreetly slip inside. She looked around the dimly lit room, quickly setting her eyes on the open bathroom doorway. "Steve…" She hurried to his side to help him up as best she could. Her shoulder was now bandaged and her left arm was in a sling to prevent movement. "Steve, what are you doing?"

It took a second for her voice to register in his ears, "N-Natasha?" He struggled to stand. "You're ok…"

"Yes! Yes, I'm fine! What's going on, Steve?" She used her hand to force him to meet her eyes.

"Natasha, I'm so sorry!"

He looked absolutely exhausted, eyes red and rimmed with dark circles. She knew it had been a long day, but she'd see worse. Only then did it occur to her that he had never seen worse. While she had seen death and corruption time and time again in her line of work, the worst he'd ever seen was a bully.

She reached for a hand towel, using it to wipe away the sweat threatening to drip into his eyes. As she wiped, she took away a layer of grime with her. Realizing that he hadn't managed to clean himself up yet, she got to work cleaning his face and brushing the dirt out of his hair. After his face, she took to his arms, finding it curious that he didn't have so much as a mark left from the procedure.

Once she had cleaned all that would have been deemed appropriate (as if any of this could be deemed appropriate), she made her way to his room and found a towel and something for him to sleep in. She placed the bundle onto the counter next to the sink, and reached to start the shower, but was stopped by Steve.

"Thank you for taking care of me." His voice came out strained and scratchy. "I'm sorry about today. I should have been able to protect you. I should have…" His voice cracked as he drifted off.

"Is that what this is about?" Her heart broke for him. "Is this because you feel responsible for me and Erskine? Steve, we knew what this project meant when we signed up for it! We knew how dangerous it would be, but we believed in the project. We believe in you, and that's worth everything we're wagering."

Steve locked eyes with her, his features doused in panic. "I should be able to protect you." He said, barely maintaining his voice, "I shouldn't have let them…"

"Steve, you didn't let them do anything! You were disoriented! You had just come out of the procedure!" Honestly, she was impressed with how he'd dealt with the changes.

"I let you down, Natasha. I let all of you down. I failed Dr. Erskine, and now he's gone."

"Steve, please stop." She had to once again force his eyes to meet her own. "You haven't failed anyone, but you have lost a friend, and you're going to have to grieve that properly." She reached to turn on the water for his shower then stood up, offering him her hand. "Why don't you clean yourself up, and then we can talk all of this out?"

He took her hand and stood as well, nodding deftly as he accepted her instructions.

"I'll be waiting right outside when you're done." She gave him a reassuring smile before she stepped outside and closed the door behind her.

The water did wonders for his head. He took a little longer than usual, just letting himself relax and, for a brief moment, forget the day he'd just lived.

* * *

Natasha had no idea why she'd felt compelled to check in on Steve after she'd been released from Medical, but she was infinitely grateful that she'd thought to. The poor guy had seen his fair share of bullies and been beaten to a pulp more times than she'd ever care to hear about, but watching a friend die was never easy.

While most of her previous work had been in offices, she had been in the field for short periods of time before, and while there she had seen enough death to last her a lifetime. Her first time, she had reacted much like him. It had been a friend; an innocent young private named Harry. He had stepped on a grenade while on the front lines. He lived long enough to make it back to base, but passed in the medical tent. The doctors said that he had lost too much blood. He didn't have a girl back home, and his parents had passed away, but he did have a younger sister who had been in boarding school. The two of them had been raised by their grandmother who had passed away five years prior. It bothered her every day that she never found out what had happened to his sister.

She was brought out of her thoughts by the door opening and Steve shyly making his way to the bed. He seemed incredibly uncomfortable, but he still sat next to her on his bed. "Thanks for checking in on me. I owe you one."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He propped his elbows on his knees and let his head fall into his hands. "Natasha, I don't think I have ever felt so helpless in my life."

She put a hand on his back, letting him know she was listening.

"How can I have changed so much, become someone so much… so much more, and yet, still be so useless?" His hands ran through his hair. "I should have covered the two of you! I could have taken it! I should have protected you…"

"Steve, what happened today was an accident. No one had any idea there was a shooter, and Colonel Phillips and I should have known. We should have been more aware of our surroundings. We were trained for that, not you. We were the ones who failed today, and because of our failures, we lost a great mind of science. But you are his legacy, Steve. Remember that."

Steve let out a strained sigh, letting her words really sink in. He was what was left of Dr. Erskine's life's work, and he would wear that badge proudly. "Thank you, Natasha. It means a lot that you'd come to see me after getting shot in the shoulder. I'm sure I sound like a whiney little girl."

"Have you seen yourself lately, Rodgers?" She shoved him gently, hoping to life his spirits. "No one in their right mind would ever call you a _little girl_!"

He looked down at himself with a chuckle. "It's definitely… different."

"You're not upset about it, are you?"

"Are you joking? Of course not! This is… Natasha, this is incredible! I mean, all I've ever wanted to do was serve my country, and now I can! You have no idea how grateful I am that you picked me for this! I mean… I didn't think I had a shot…"

"Dr. Erskine always said that you were the obvious choice. He said he was looking for someone who 'valued integrity and would stand against injustice'."

Steve smiled, remembering his first meeting with Dr. Erskine, "When we first met, all I did was tell him I didn't like bullies…"

The two of them talked for hours, their conversation drifting from bullies to grade school to family. Natasha told him about the memories she had of St. Petersburg and her parents. Steve told her about his mothers cooking and his best friend, Bucky. Neither of them really cared to check the time until Natasha dosed off on Steve's shoulder at 3:00 a.m. He half-heartedly tried to wake her, but ultimately resigned himself to sleeping on the floor while she slept on the bed.

And that is how the two of them were found when the SSR agent arrived to take Steve in for testing.

 **Reviews are BAE!**


	5. Chapter 5

**So guess what, guys? I'm still alive! I've had some super busy weeks, but here's your next chapter! Stuff's gonna get a little more original pretty soon, but just hold tight for now!**

Chapter 5

Steve had never been terribly fond of needles. As a child, he'd had to endure a lot of little pokes, each as unpleasant as the last. One of the things he had really been looking forward to was the whole idea of being in "perfect health". He loved the thought of never having to go see another doctor, and yet here he was, once again letting nurses poke at his arms.

He understood the need to the samples to be taken, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Last one!" the little blonde nurse said, as she stuck in the thirteenth syringe, pulling at the plunger and then removing what would hopefully be the last needle to be stuck inside of Steve Rodgers arm.

The girl made a move out of dabbing away the little bead of blood that had formed on top of his skin, but he barely noticed it, too taken with Natasha as she stepped into the room with a clipboard in her hands.

"Any hope of repeating Dr. Erskine's experiment will be locked inside of your genetic code, but without Dr. Erskine, it could take years." She looked up from her papers, "Every little bit helps."

After the previous night, Steve had allowed himself to come to terms with what had happened, but the injustice of it all still resonated with him. "He deserved more than this…"

"If it could work only once, he'd be proud it was you." She gave him a gentle smile before returning to her papers.

"Did they give you any grief for this morning?" She had excused herself rather quickly after being discovered, but she had still been seen.

"Just a little slap on the wrist. I'm your handler, Steve. I'm allowed to see you in private… I just shouldn't have fallen asleep." The slightest blush just barely showed on her cheeks, but her red hair made it harder to see.

"It was still nice getting to really talk with you."

She didn't look up from her papers, but cracked a little grin at his words. "You too."

* * *

After the seemingly endless barrage of tests finally came to a close, Steve made his way down the stairs, hoping to hear something about what he was going to be doing, now that he had undergone the procedure. He made it down just in time to hear Howard's nasal voice singing his own praises.

"Well… Speaking modestly, I'm the best mechanical engineer in this country." His tone didn't register as modest. "But I don't know what's inside this thing, or how it works. I'm not even close to this technology."

"Then who is?" One of the men accompanying Colonel Phillips seemed a little too interested in the submarine. It set everyone's teeth on edge.

"Hydra." Colonel Phillips answered tersely, "I'm sure you've been reading their briefings."

"I'm on a number of committees, Colonel."

Steve and Natasha had just cleared the stairs when she decided to slip into the conversation. "Hydra is the Nazi deep science division, led by Johann Schmidt. But he has much bigger ambitions."

"Hydra's practically a cult." Colonel Phillips supplied, "They worship Schmidt. They think he's a god."

"So what are you gonna do about it?"

"Spoke to the president this morning. As of today, the SSR is going to be re-tasked. We are taking the fight to Hydra." He turned and addressed Natasha, "Pack your bags, Agent Romanoff." Natasha started to say something, but she was interrupted as he shouted over his shoulder, "You too, Stark."

She turned to see Steve, dutifully awaiting instructions that weren't coming.

"We leave for London tonight." Colonel Phillips was halfway to the door already.

"Sir!" Steve interjected, "If you're going after Schmidt, I want in."

"You're an experiment," said Colonel Phillips, "You're going to Alamogordo."

"The serum worked!"

"I asked for an army and all I got was you." Natasha could feel the blow coming. Colonel Phillips was a very blunt man. He never censored himself. "You are not enough."

She saw it in his face. Steve was hearing his worst fears coming from someone outside of his head. It was paralyzing, but at the same time, she could see a light in his eye. After their talks the night prior, he was not about to let someone stomp all over him. She made a move to approach him, but was cut off by one of the men who had been accompanying Colonel Phillips.

"With all due respect to the Colonel, I think we may be missing the point." The man was definitely up to something and it didn't sit well with Natasha. "I've seen you in action, Steve. More importantly, the country's seen it. You're all over the papers! The enlistment line's been around the block since your picture hit the newsstands. You don't take a soldier, a symbol like that, and hide him in a lab. Son, do you want to serve your country on the most important battlefield of the war?"

Natasha definitely didn't like there this was going.

"Sir, that's all I want." She was kicking herself for letting Steve get caught up with this man.

"The congratulations. You just got promoted."

The man and his assistants left after that, leaving behind just Natasha and Steve. "You do realize that you've just been cast as a chorus girl."

* * *

The next few months were the longest, most ridiculous months of Steve's life.

He consistently wrote Natasha, even though he responses were far less consistent. She would tell him what she could about working on the front lines, and he would tell her all about life as Captain America.

While he definitely wasn't opposed to the company he was able to keep, the price he paid was his dignity. The stretchy red, white, and blue suite they made him wear did nothing for his pride. He was made to protect, not promote. Working as a show feature wasn't supposed to be a real job, just a way to get to the front lines. Yet here he was, singing and dancing his way to fame. This wasn't what he wanted.

It wasn't so bad in the States. He didn't mind shaking hands and photo ops. Little kids idolized him and families would stop to take pictures with him, but when the service tours started, he really began to feel like a fraud: a monkey with a shield.

He had told them: soldiers don't want to see a man dressed as Hitler. Yet here he was, starting the skit like any other show. The audience was silent. He just wanted to hide backstage. How could he even talk to these men? They've been fighting the good fight while he's been living large from flying their colors.

Of course, they booed him off of the stage in less than a minute. He expected nothing less.

* * *

Steve had never wanted to do the show for the soldiers. He'd known it would feel like he was a phony. He'd known that they'd laugh. He'd known that it would just remind him of how useless he consistently felt. But he went through with it anyway, because that's what his bosses said to do.

And now here he was, feeling lower than ever as he sketched in his notepad.

"Hello, Steve!" The voice of none other than Agent Natasha Romanoff pulled him from his revelry.

"Hi!" She looked better than ever, especially considering her job here.

"Hi!"

"What are you doing here?"

"Officially, I'm not here at all! That was quite a performance…"

"Yeah! Uh… I had to improvise a little bit. The crowds I'm used to are usually more… uh… twelve." He couldn't get over how incredibly insufficient he felt next to her.

"I understand you're 'America's New Hope'." Her tone was taunting. She knew how much he wished he'd never taken the job, and she had advised him against it. This was a sort of 'I told you so' moment.

"Bond sales take a 10% bump in every state I visit." He had to consistently remind himself why he subjected himself to this. Statistics usually set his mind at ease.

"Is that Senator Brandt I'm hearing?"

"At least he's got me doing this. Phillips would've had me stuck in a lab."

"And those are your only two options?"

* * *

Natasha had always known the importance of her job with the SSR. She had been very aware of the gravity of her decisions, specifically in deciding who would receive treatment in the Super Soldier program, but as she watched Steve, with the ever present glint of determination in his eye, she had never felt more assured of her own capabilities. He had been the right choice. How could it have ever been a contest? Who else would perform so well with the gift he'd been given?

Steve was now sitting across from her in a small Stark airplane. It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore when his knees would brush up against hers.

Regrettably, the only possible pilot who would sneak out of camp with the two of them had to be Howard Stark. Even for such a good pilot, being with him was just unbearably uncomfortable. She'd thought he was done making passes at her… Sadly, she'd been mistaken. "Agent Romanoff, if we're not in too much of a hurry I thought we could stop off in Lucerne for a late-night fondue."

Poor Steve seemed even more uncomfortable that she was. "So… Do you two… Fondue?"

It seemed like a matter of seconds and then he was gone: terrifyingly out of her grasp.

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